


Pieces

by Ohsoprecious



Series: Vexeris Trevelyan [21]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: First Meetings, Gifts, M/M, Rite of Tranquility, discussions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-12 08:29:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29881836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ohsoprecious/pseuds/Ohsoprecious
Summary: Collection of smaller pieces, that I didn't want to release as stand-alones.
Relationships: Dorian Pavus/Male Trevelyan, Fenris/Male Hawke, Male Inquisitor/Dorian Pavus
Series: Vexeris Trevelyan [21]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/318137
Kudos: 3





	1. Counsel

**Author's Note:**

> Vex is troubled by something and seeks Dorian's advice.

The door slammed shut, making Dorian jump, startled. He'd been comfortably reading sprawled on the orlesian couch in the Inquisitor's quarters, a newly developed habit of his.  
There were some footsteps and Vexeris appeared from the stairwell, looking not quite like himself.  
The mage frowned, putting the book aside, carefully laying it on the small coffee table behind him. Vex either hadn't noticed him or he was ignoring him, as he went directly to his desk, putting both hands on it, sighing heavily.

"Amatus?" he asked, both as a means to letting him know he wasn't alone and expressing his concern. And he was worried. The man who had stared down Corypheus himself and kept his composure even during their little jaunt to the future, seemed spooked.

The man tensed, craning his head to look at his lover, before he turned around fully and walked to him, dropping in his knees next to him, his head on Dorian's lap. It was without a doubt an uncomfortable position, but Dorian didn't question it, his hand going instinctually to his head, fingers massaging him, weaving trough his red hair.

"Can you....read to me? For a little while?"

"As much as your fetish for my voice is.....flattering, I don't think even I can render _Uses of healing roots_ an interesting read."

"Dorian, please.....do as I ask?"

"Have it your way," he said, his worries not easing in the slightest.

So he read. For a good hour, he said nothing, apart from what was written in the book, however boring. He kept fingering his hair, something that he'd started to enjoy recently, ever since finding out that they were soft and pliant, not at all the mess of dry hair he thought they were.

"What would you do, if you were tranquil?"

Dorian went rigid at the question. Tranquility was a mage's worst nightmare, short of becoming possessed. And only because possession usually came with the murder of those are around you.

"I mean, what would you want to happen?"

"I would certainly want not to be tranquil," he said, every muscle in his body tense.

"Hawke said he'd rather be dead."

Dorian swallowed.

"Yes, I can understand the sentiment."

"What....what's it like? I don't....I know they talk weird. And they're cut off from their magic and emotions. But surely they must feel...something, right?"

"No. They don't. Just because they walk and talk, doesn't mean they aren't dead."

"Derek said that Tranquility is just the Templars method to feel righteous when they kill mages. They can't say they've committed murder, if the victim is technically still alive."

"I see you've been talking with the Champion."

"Sort of. I had to break up a fight between him and Cassandra."

"And this somehow has to do with you taking an interest in tranquility?"

"Yes. He heard of the rumors going around that there's a way to cure it. He wanted to know how. Cassandra refused. I'm pretty sure you can guess the rest."

"And...this has you running to me with very unpleasant questions?"

"No. It's what happened after."

"Don't leave me in suspense, amatus," he said, trying to ease away that haunted look with a bit of humor.

"I was looking for you. Ran into to Mother Giselle. She was talking to Helisma, that tranquil girl that researches creatures. I didn't hear the whole conversation but I understood enough. She said she wouldn't want to be turned back. She said she wouldn't survive the trauma of what happened to her while she was tranquil. I think she was implying she was....abused."

"Surely that's not news? Give a man absolute power over another and most fall to such....acts."

"I know. I am not naive, Dorian. I just thought.....to hear Cassandra and Cullen talk about the Templars...it's completely different from what I hear from the mages. And now this."

"What brought this on, Vex?" he asked, apprehension clawing at him.

"I recommended Cassandra to look into perfecting the cure. To make it a real possibility. Apparently it's flawed, now. And....I know Cullen has the tools for the Rite stashed somewhere. Just in case I order someone tranquil."

Dorian stayed silent, even if his stomach was churning at the mere thought. He knew Vexeris's could be cold, ruthless towards his enemies. But turning someone tranquil was a whole different beast. If he ever did something like that.....he wasn't sure he'd be able to forgive something like that.

"Dorian, do you think there's....cases were tranquility is necessary?"

"No. I wouldn't wish tranquility on anyone," he said immediately.

He seemed thoughtful for a moment, before he raised to his feet, coming to stand before him.

"All right. I know what to do. Thank you, Dori."

He left without a word. Dorian learned only days later that Trevelyan had spoken to Cullen, ordered him to have all lyrium branding tools destroyed, along with any and all records on how to recreate them and perform the ritual. And if anymore were found, they would share that fate.

There would never be a Rite of Tranquility in the Inquisition.


	2. Meeting the Champion

"Sooo....you're him."

Dorian looked up from the tankard of dwarven ale he was nursing, coming face to face with the Champion in all his glory. If he was being honest, when he'd read Varric's book and from the tales that flew even around Tevinter, he hadn't imagined him to be so.....big. Hawke was a beast of a man, tall and bulky, black long hair, partially put in order with a ponytail, a tattoo on his face, much larger that the little dots Vex had under his eye. Looking at him, no one would've guessed he was a mage. And a very powerful one, according to the stories.  
And aside from his natural presence, there was something alluring about him, something magnetic. Much like Vexeris, he seemed born to be a leader. Or a symbol, in his case.

"I could say the same to you, oh Champion of Kirkwall."

The man snickered, ordering himself a tankard of ale from the keeper.

"Didn't figure a noble like yourself would slum it at the tavern."

"I could say the same of you."  
If Varric's book was accurate, and that was a big if, Hawke was an Amell, a noble house of Kirkwall. And that was even before he became Champion.

He snickered, gulping down half the tankard. He didn't wince at the taste, something Dorian found remarkable. It was abysmal.  
"I've lived most of my life on the run. This," he said, gesturing with a finger around himself," is luxurious compared to some of the places I've been. It's clean, big, well maintained. I'd say it ranks high on my list of taverns."

He hummed in acknowledgement. If he'd been an honest sort of person, he would've admitted Hawke intimidated him. Maybe it was because he was more powerful than him, a feeling he wasn't used to being a magical prodigy. Or it could also be his image, the Champion of Kirkwall, who had chased the qunari out of his city and was the symbol of the mage rebellion.

"So...I'm curious. Are you a blood mage?"

He glared at him immediately, before he caught himself. It was a reasonable assumption after all. One he'd had to deal with ever since coming south. It was stupid to assume that one such as Hawke could look past petty prejudices.

"Blood magic is the resort of the weak mind."

"True."

For a while it looked like the conversation was over, as they sat in silence, simply drinking. It probably would've been, if, out of nowhere, Varric appeared, strutting as if he owned the place.  
The dwarf seemed lighter with Hawke around, as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.  
It wasn't hard to see they were close friends. Perhaps that was why no one was truly surprised, when it turned out that he could contact him and had lied to Cassandra's face. Not that the Seeker would ever admit it.

"Hawke! Already testing out the delights of the local tavern?"

The mage grinned, already passing a tankard in the dwarf's hand and moving away, allowing the man to sit next to him on the bench.

"You know me. Besides, we still have that bet going on. Have to win at least one of them."

"Keep dreaming."

"What bet?" he couldn't help asking.

"I bet him there was a tavern where they served something worse that what Corf gave us at the Hanged Man. So far, I'm losing."

"By the way, Hawke, where's Peaches? I miss our card games."  
"Left him with Fenris. So he doesn't do anything stupid."

"Which one of them?" Hawke grinned. "Probably both."

"I'm sorry, who's Peaches?"

"My mabari." Unfortunately for Dorian, he was drinking, so when that little bit of information was revealed, he nearly choked on the ale.

"Easy, Sparkler."

He was still coughing, when someone hit him on his back, far stronger than was necessary. Dorian turned around, shooting a glare at Bull. "You named your dog like a fruit?"

"Well, Carver wanted to name him Demon. But he was round and fluffy, so it was Peaches for me. It pissed Carver to no end, when he imprinted on me and the name stuck."

"You named a war dog Peaches? And how in Thedas did you teach a dog to play cards?"

"Mabari are really intelligent," he said, as if that was a perfectly valid explanation.


	3. Blackwall

To say he was surprised to see Blackwall, or Rainier, standing in the library obviously waiting for him, would be an understatement. They had a tentative partnership at the best of times, Blackwall too mired in his commoner mindset for his tastes and the false Warden doing his best to sneer at nobles. Never mind that his leader was one, though he always seemed to forget that detail.

He'd gone to pick up a book and a few notes he'd left near the bed, the guards not even looking at him now, used to his coming and goings from the Inquisitor's quarters, simply nodding politely as he passed. When he returned to his spot, Blackwall was there, standing with his arms crossed, looking at the table with all his latest notes on Corypheus's name.

"Well, well," he started, with flourish," have you decided to take me up in that word puzzle after all?"

The man snorted, ready with a retort, before he cast down his gaze, as if ashamed. Dorian could guess why, it had only been a few days since his judgment. The air around him was still tense, now that people knew who he was.

"I don't know how to say this. But I feel I have to thank you."

"There's a surprise."

Blackwall barely looked at him, staring at a point past his ear and Dorian deflated. It was pathetic really the amount of self flagellation the man was still putting himself trough. Not that he didn't deserve it, but the mage knew very well that everyone makes mistakes and his was a big one, that had only gotten bigger and he'd been too much of a coward to stop.

"The Inquisitor....well, be glad you're on his good side. He's terrifying when he's furious."

Dorian blinked. Vexeris had pardoned him, with no repercussions for the crime he'd committed, being incredibly merciful, even for him, since so far he only had Erimond executed. And Florianne, but she didn't make it out of the Winter Palace in the first place. And Blackwall had in return sworn himself to him.  
He wasn't aware of any residual anger. He thought the matter was resolved.

"I work very hard to stay on his good side," he said, suggestively, knowing it would make him uncomfortable.

The man grimaced, much as Dorian was expecting. He sat on his chair, his book now open, pretending to read while he waited for Blackwall to start saying his piece.

"He would've killed me."

Dorian raised an eyebrow, looking completely uninterested in the whole thing.

"His exact words were, _I would've strung you up from the neck myself, if I could've_."

Well, that seemed excessive. Vex wasn't that much of a vengeful person.

"Our dear Inquisitor was probably just pissed. He pardoned you, did he not? He can't have meant that so much then. Used his own contacts to get you out, too."

"No. He meant it. He even said that I should thank my lucky star for you and Sera. Then he left."

Dorian closed the book with a loud thud. Sera he could understand. The two rogues had an odd but close friendship and the elf liked Blackwall, for whatever reason. She would've been angry. But him? Why him? He hadn't so much as mentioned the situation, nevermind talking him out of executing the former orlesian captain.

"So, I guess I'm here to thank you. For....whatever you did to convince him."

"I thought you didn't want to be rescued," he said, muttering, not fully part of the conversation anymore. He was replaying the last few days in his head, trying to gauge what had changed Vexeris's mind. He was so absorbed in his own thoughts, he didn't hear his answer or the warrior leaving.

Dorian had been wracking his brain for hours, trying to solve the puzzle and coming up empty. He didn't like this. If word got out that Vex had pardoned a known murdered and traitor, for, somehow, Dorian's benefit, it would explode in his face. Tired of guessing, he stood up from his comfortable seat and quickly made his way to the war room, where he knew they were discussing their next trek to the Emerald Graves.

The guards at the entrance gave him a curious glance, but let him pass, knocking and opening the door for him.

"Dorian? Do you need something?"

All eyes in the room turned to him, including the witch's yellow ones. What she was doing here was beyond him, but at the moment he didn't care.

"Might I steal you for a moment, Inquisitor?"

Leliana's face twitched, trying to stifle that knowing smile that she always seemed to sport whenever they were in a room together. Or perhaps it was his imagination.

"Can it wait until later? We can have dinner and open a bottle of...." he frowned, not remembering the name of the latest vintage of wine Josephine pretended to order for him, knowing fully well it was for Dorian's benefit.

"Bordeaux, Inquisitor," she supplied, with her ever present gentle smile.

"Yes, that one."

"It's a small matter. Shouldn't take long," he insisted, making Vexeris frown. Now he knew something was up. Dorian was always careful not to interfere with official business, as much as Vex claimed he didn't mind. And while he often charmed or bribed one of the advisors to end their meetings early, this was different.

"All right. A short break would do us some good, right?" he said, this time addressing the others.  
Morrigan sneered, muttering something about it being the Warden all over again, while the others nodded politely and followed the witch out, Josie and Leliana chatting between them.

Vex crossed his arms, leaning in the table, watching him, but Dorian waited until he couldn't hear the others anymore, doors closed behind them.

"Blackwall, or whatever his name is, came to speak to me."

Trevelyan's eyebrows rose even more, if possible, but was impassable otherwise.  
"He told me you shouted at him."

"Yeah. I got a bit carried away there. Don't tell me he came to you to complain about my anger towards him."

"No, nothing like that, I assure you. My issue is another. During our, rather one sided talk, he said that you pardoned him because of me."

"Ah," he said, understanding dawning in him," not only you. Sera would've stuck arrows up my ass, if I left him there to die. Never mind that he killed fucking children."

He could see now what Blackwall had meant, when he said it wasn't one of his mood swings. He really was properly angry, and not the kind that would go away with a distraction and a laugh.

"And that is my problem. What do _I_ have to do with it? I admit I wouldn't have liked to see him on the gallows, but I never said anything about the situation."

"This is about protecting my reputation again, is it?"

"Of course it is, Vex!" he said, frowning,"if it got out that you spared the guy that killed a whole family and ran, because, somehow, _I_ asked you...."

"Calm down, Dorian. It wasn't for you."

"That's not very comforting, Inquisitor, because Blackwall seems to think so."

"It wasn't for you, it was _because_ of you."

"I don't...."

"Remember the high dragon in the Approach? The one that would've cleaved you in half, if Blackwall hadn't taken the hit for you? He nearly died. Protecting _you_. He knew your armor couldn't have taken a direct hit like that and he nearly sacrificed his life, in the off chance his own armor could save him from a massive talon straight in the gut. I had a debt that needed repaying. That is why I had him smuggled out of the prison. _Sera_ is the reason I didn't just kick him out once that debt was paid. She took on that responsibility."

"Sera? Responsible?" he said, still overwhelmed.

He shrugged," She came to me and asked me to spare him. Otherwise I'd have sent him to the Wardens. See? You are not the only one that influences me."

"I see." He didn't truly. Why would saving his life be considered a debt for Trevelyan? It's not like he saved the Inquisitor's life. Besides they saved each other in combat often enough, so why was that one so different from the others?

Though....Blackwall did throw himself in front of him, no shield for protection or to deviate the talons. He'd been shaken at the time. He'd risked his own life plenty of times, but that time had been a really close call.  
"Was that all? Or did you want something else? Perhaps some....private time on the war table?"

He licked his lips, looking at him up and down, hunger in his eyes. Dorian couldn't help but smirk in response, despite the uneasiness he still felt, in being, unwillingly, part of the reason why Blackwall wasn't hanging from the noose he most likely deserved.

He'd never get tired of how Vexeris looked at him, wanting, always wanting, and beneath that all the love and adoration he so freely declared, as if it was obvious. As if loving Dorian was the easiest thing in the world.

"Ah, don't get me wrong, amatus, I'd like nothing more than a repeat of the experience," he said, trying to muster up his usual charm. "There is something profoundly sinful in being bent over the table your advisors spend so much time organizing after all, but....this time I have to decline."

"Shame," he said, impishly,"Cullen's face every time he realizes what we've done is completely worth it."

Yes. He got days of sour looks every time it happened. Not that it wasn't fun, but it did put a buffer on their normally pleasant chess games.

"Later then, Dorian. I love you."


	4. No gifts policy

"Close your eyes."

Dorian looked up from his notes, strewn across the bed, facing Vexeris, who had a suspiciously excited look on his face.

"If this is another one of your surprise blowjobs, I'm really not in the mood, amatus. I'm very close to the solution and I don't want to be interrupted. Not even by you."

The rogue smirked, looking around the bed. "Is that why our bed looks more like a desk right now? I do hope you plan to clean all this up."

Looking down on his notes again, he tried to shoo Vex away with his hand. Of course he was going to clean this up afterwards. It's not like he was about to let one of the servants do it and mess up his notes or even rip or throw them away.

"Dorian," he said, in a singsong voice.

"Oh, fine," he surrendered, closing his eyes," but if this involves getting my clothes off or the papers rumpled, I will be cross with you."  
He heard some rustling and for a moment he was really worried this was another one of Vex's ploys to get him outside of his clothes. Not that he usually needed much coaxing, but he did so enjoy playing hard to get.  
Dorian opened his eyes, when he felt the bed dipping just enough, right in front of him. Vex was still standing next to it, looking at him expectantly.

There was a staff before him. A newly crafted one, judging by the smell of ash and lubricants it still permeated.

And it had a naked woman on top.

"As much as I find your love for the inappropriate, endearing, amatus...."

"It's Andraste, you idiot," he said, rolling his eyes," just look at it properly and tell me if it was done right."

Once he closed his hand around the hilt, he immediately felt his magic flowing, the staff a perfect conduit, better than any of the other staffs he'd held before. Dorian frowned, wondering where in the world did Vex get the schematic for something like this.  
It was perfect. The magic flowed freely, without barriers, something nearly impossible to archive.  
The staff itself was completely golden, but the color spoke of something far more precious and expensive than metal. Dragonbone, taken by one of the high dragons they'd killed recently.

"I found a way to circumvent your _no gifts_ policy. You can't tell me you don't need a better staff."

"I....As much as I appreciate this, you can't seriously expect me to go around with a naked woman on my staff."

"Hawke managed just fine, did he not?"

"Vex? This isn't _his_ staff, right?" suddenly worried about having Hawke on his tail.

"No," he answered quickly," it's a copy of it. Hawke's father was, apparently a master of building such things. His "masterpiece" is what Hawke has used for most of his life. And I asked him for the schematics. He threatened to sic his dog on me if I ever revealed his family's legacy, but I think I'm pretty safe with you."

"Vex! I can't....do you realize that a Dragonbone staff of this quality would be worth thousands of gold pieces in Tevinter, right?"

"So? It's not worth that here. Our own smith built this and we got the materials. No gold involved and this is one the best staffs designs in existence. You forbade me from getting you anything outside of what you would need in service of the Inquisition. This falls perfectly into that category."

He wasn't going to budge from this, much like he'd ignored him before, with his birthright and a few other "necessary" gifts.

Maker knew he didn't want to hear the rumors for this. It only took someone with half a brain and some knowledge for the arcane to see this wasn't a common weapon. But...it was a very good staff.

That's when he noticed there was a piece of Vyrantium silk wrapped around the hilt. The same material his new robes were made from, after the latest dragon had ruined the last set. The white fabric was incredibly soft to the touch and he could feel the carefully stitched reliefs under his finger.

"I really like that new robe of yours," he said, sheepishly, as if embarrassed he'd noticed that little strap of fabric,"white really suits you."

"As opposed to running around with grey and black, amatus?"

He looked away, properly embarrassed. "Josephine chose the damn colors."

"Then let's make a pact, amatus. I'll accept this without a fuss," he gestured to the staff," if, next time you have to order a new armor, I get to pick the fabrics."

He smiled, his gaze warm and Dorian couldn't help but swallow. "Done. No yellow, though. I hate that color."


	5. How they all knew

Varric was the first. He'd seen it play out before, the start of a romance. Hawke and Fenris had had a complicated and messy relationship, especially at first. But it took a mere five minutes with them, to know what was going on.  
He saw the same with Trevelyan and Dorian. Before anyone else. Perhaps even before the both of them.  
It was the perfect setup. A chantry. A rift. Danger. Both immediate and hidden.  
 _Send him a fruit basket. Everyone loves those._  
A small smile playing on the Herald's lips. Not a smirk, not the one he'd had on the whole time or the perpetual one he deliberately annoyed the Seeker with.  
No, that smile was the same as the one Hawke had, one night at the Hanged Man, watching Fenris relax for the first time.  
Varric could've written about it. But he didn't. He chose to keep secret the fact that Dorian Pavus, Altus of the Tevinter Imperium, had the man that was going to become Inquisitor at _fruit basket_. No one would believe him anyway.

Leliana was the second.  
 _There's no one I'd rather be stranded in time with, future or present._  
It had alarmed her at first. A Tevinter mage's presence was suspicious enough on its own. But one pursuing the Herald?  
So she investigated. Watched them from afar. And waited, ready to pounce, at the first sign of foul play.  
But it never came. Instead, once in Skyhold, she watched Dorian learn to recognize the Inquisitor's steps, pretending not to be waiting for him. And the soft look he sported, whenever the man left, made her smile, reminding her of simpler times.

Cole was the third. He knew, when the hurt both men felt lessened, finding solace in each other, even if still secretly.

The Iron Bull was the fourth. He knew he should've noticed sooner. His own desires had gotten in the way of his perception, dreams filled with strong muscles and wild red hair had clouded his judgment. It was a simple thing really. A reassuring hand on the mage's shoulder. Anger towards a friend's father. And Dorian's hopeful gaze, watching the Inquisitor as he walked towards the horses.

Josephine was the fifth. Rumors had started to circulate, but she'd payed it no mind. According to rumors the Inquisitor had an affair with half of Orlais and all of his inner circle. Then Dorian came and she never thought she'd ever see him so hesitant, asking her to find a specific book, that he thought the Inquisitor might find of interest. A simple request, really, but one filled with caring. She smiled, hoping they'd make it.

Cullen was the sixth. He'd never admit it, but he'd never had noticed, if someone hadn't outright told him. Mother Giselle had come to him, asking questions about blood magic and maleficar, topics he wasn't comfortable talking about to a priest. His suspicion was rewarded.  
 _I fear the Tevinter is using blood magic to seduce the Inquisitor._  
A ludicrous idea. He'd checked for signs of forbidden magic himself. That had been the idea behind that first game of chess they'd shared, one Dorian was probably aware of.  
So, at their next game, he outright asked, only for Dorian to bare his fangs.  
To defend, not to attack. And the softest smile, when he realized it wasn't an accusation. There was no doubt he was in love.

Sera was the seventh. The servants talked and she listened.  
 _You're having it off with Mage-bits, are you?_  
He'd grinned. _Yes. Who wouldn't? Have you seen him?_  
And despite her teasing and his jokes, she saw the pride in his eyes, when he looked at Dorian, with a book on his lap, at camp.

Solas was the eighth. Hard not to notice really. Their first fight, clearly a lover's quarrel, about an amulet of all things.  
 _Everything all right, Inquisitor?_  
 _No. Andraste save me from stubborn mages and their bloody pride._

Cassandra was the ninth. Rumors had always been there, but now most of them spoke only of one pairing. So she asked.  
 _There have been rumors. They suggest that you and Dorian are...._  
 _Are what?_  
 _Romantically involved._  
He'd raised an eyebrow, amused. She thought he'd take it as just another one of the silly things they said about him.  
 _Yes, I suppose it's true._  
Her heart stopped. He'd flirted with her. He'd been a friend, an ear she could talk to, even if he teased her mercilessly.  
It was a day later that she realized it wasn't just a passing fancy. No grand gesture, no romantic reveal. In the morning, at breakfast, they came together from the Inquisitor's quarters. Vexeris was clearly forcing him to do something he wasn't comfortable with as Dorian's eyes darted to the chatting nobles that were already awake, tense and fearful.  
Cassandra wondered just how much courage it took, to face all the prejudice and judgment Dorian surely did, every day, all for loving a person. A person that had the mixed blessing of being the one in charge.  
 _See, Dori? Was that so bad?_  
 _Not yet. The day is still young for them to string me up._  
 _Relax. If they have a problem with it, they can shove it up their collective asses. I'll even help them._  
The mage had glared at him. She only learned later from Cullen, that all that fear of discovery was Dorian's attempt at protecting the Inquisitor, not because he was ashamed. Perhaps that was not only the moment when she realized, but also the moment when she gave up on the Inquisitor and gained her respect of Dorian.

Blackwall was the tenth. Rumors were rampant, but he paid them little attention. Until one night at the tavern. Varric had organized a Wicked Grace game. They were having fun, even if they were all losing to Josephine. And when Cullen had to remove his underclothes, Dorian gave him a lascivious smile and winked.  
 _Dorian, you're going to make Cullen's head explode._  
 _Oh? Is that the only reason I should stop?_  
He snorted, amused, a playful smirk on his face. _Look all you want. I made you set the bedsheets on fire. I doubt our dear Commander could do better._  
And with the table giving each other knowing glances and snickers, he's realized he'd missed out on a lot lately, thanks to his injury in the Approach.

Vivienne was the eleventh. Or perhaps the fourth. She knew, but for the longest time didn't believe the Altus genuinely liked the Inquisitor.  
Until, during a fight, someone managed to knock the Inquisitor out. And Dorian snapped, displaying every ounce of generations of carefully nurtured magical potential. And single handedly obliterated the group of Red Templars they were fighting.  
 _Vex! Vex! Maker, wake up, you idiot!_  
He normally stood there, as if waiting to applause. Instead he ran to the rogue's side, falling to his knees in the mud and snow of the Emprise.  
The others were still stunned by the display of power, all except the dwarf, who quickly gave Trevelyan a potion.  
 _Ow. That fucking hurt._  
 _Why can't you be more careful? You promised you'd be more careful, Vex!_  
He was completely terrified.  
 _I'm fine, Dori. It's not as bad as it looks._  
She never thought she'd see the noble lose his composure so badly, as he clutched the Inquisitor's body, uncaring of all the blood and goo as the Inquisitor made an awkward attempt to comfort him with his free arm.  
 _You're not hurt, right?_  
 _You're bleeding from a head wound and you're worried about me?_  
She would never admit that the little scene warmed her heart a little. There was so much bitterness in the world, so much you had to sacrifice to survive. If they brought each other some comfort, than she had no right to judge.

Scout Harding was the last. She rarely stayed in Skyhold, so she hadn't heard the rumors. She tended to stay in the forward camp, one the Inquisitor and his group usually didn't use, save for debriefings. But one evening in the desolate Hissing Wastes, she was offered a night of drinks and card games and she accepted.  
They were well in the middle of the second game, when Dorian, who had declined the offer to play, came out of the tent and went to the Inquisitor. They talked for a few seconds and then Vexeris opened his fur cloak, uncrossing his legs, allowing the mage to practically curl up against him. Like a big cat.  
The Inquisitor gave him a soft kiss on the temple, smiling fondly.  
 _If His Highness could finish his turn, before molesting Sparkler, please?_  
 _Maker's breath, we aren't going to be able to sleep tonight too, are we?_  
 _I keep telling you to invest in earplugs, Hero._  
 _It's dangerous to sleep with earplugs in the middle of a desert, Varric._  
 _Suit yourself._  
She didn't comment. She'd had a little crush on both men, but they were too cute together for any bitterness to spoil the moment.


End file.
